


Emotion

by redheadedbisexual



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode: s01e06 The Naked Time, Gay, LGBTQ, M/M, Queer Themes, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 16:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18832291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadedbisexual/pseuds/redheadedbisexual
Summary: The Enterprise is hurdling rapidly into the atmosphere of a dying planet, and much of the crew has been stricken by a terrifying disease that has left chaos in its wake. Needless to say, Jim Kirk has quite a lot on his mind, and certainly should not be worrying about any personal matters. Yet he cannot not ignore the deep concern which has gripped him since his faithful first officer went radio silent in the midst of the crisis.





	Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the episode "The Naked Time" recently I couldn't help but feel like the scene between Kirk and Spock in the briefing room had some serious gay undertones. So I wrote a fic about it. Enjoy!

The Enterprise was hurdling rapidly into the atmosphere of a dying planet, and those fit for duty in this dire time were few in number, as much of the crew had been stricken by a terrifying and unfamiliar disease that left chaos in its wake. Needless to say, Jim Kirk had quite a lot on his mind, and certainly should not have been concerning himself with any personal matters. Yet he could not ignore the deep concern which had gripped him since his faithful first officer had gone radio silent in the midst of the crisis. On even the most routine of missions Spock could be relied upon to perform his duties, and that he was missing now was suggestive of something seriously wrong.

A momentary relief seized Jim’s mind as he burst through the doors to the briefing room and discovered Spock hunched over the table.

“Spock!” He cried, disguising his relief with a note of frustration. “Where have you been? What happened?”

The look on Spock’s face was one entirely unfamiliar to his captain. The strain of his facial features, the tenseness of his muscles, it was all quite alien on the stoic Vulcan.

“My mother,” he said, his voice strained. “I could never tell her I loved her.”

Jim was astounded. In all the years they had known each other, never had he seen Spock in such an emotional state. For Jim, the emotionality was not unwelcome. He had always urged his friend to be more expressive, endeavored to nudge him out of his comfort zone, and not without ulterior motive. For years Jim had worked away at Spock’s hard outer shell in a desperate hope that perhaps, somewhere beneath his mask of seriousness, the Vulcan had a capability to return the affection Jim had for him, the affection which, much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, was quite deeper than a mere feeling of friendship.

But now? Jim could not do this now. In minutes they would all be dead, and what would his confused feelings matter then?

“We’ve got four minutes, maybe five!” He reminded Spock.

“An earth woman, living on a planet where love, emotion, is bad taste—”

“We’ve got to risk a full power start!” Jim cried. Though he was not deaf to the profound statements Spock made, he pushed them to the back of his mind. “The engines were shut off. No time to regenerate. Do you hear me? We’ve got to risk a full power start!”

“I respected my father, our customs. I was ashamed of my earth blood…”

In wild desperation, Jim struck Spock across the face. The irony of the situation did not escape him. Despite all they did to make Spock reliable in a time of crisis, Jim had long cursed Spock’s emotional shields for the obstacle they posed to him. Yet now, when Jim needed his logical first officer more than ever, Spock could speak of nothing but the emotions Jim was so desperately curious about.

“Jim,” Spock carried on. “When I feel friendship for you, I am ashamed.”

Friendship? Was that all he felt? Granted, Jim was utterly shocked Spock had any feeling for him beyond indifference or perhaps an entirely logical admiration. But he did not have time for this now!

He slapped Spock again, yelling in his face, “You have got to hear me!” As Jim raised an arm to strike again, Spock seized his hand, holding it between the pair of them. “We need a formula! We’ve got to risk implosion!”

Even as Jim carried on speaking, a strange sensation began to fill him. Suddenly, a great tide of emotion flooded his body. His mind became a sea of raging feelings not his own—grief chipped away at his heart, regret weighed like a stone in the pit of his stomach, longing twisted up through his chest and took the breath from his lungs, and then… there was love. A deep, genuine love which warmed him from head to toe, pulsating from a single point on his body, from the point of contact between himself and his first officer. Only when Jim wrenched his hand free did the emotion subside, and then at last he understood just what was going on.

“Understand, Jim?” Spock said as they separated. “I’ve spent a whole lifetime learning to hide my feelings.”

Jim’s mind was a mess of emotions. Had he no sense of self control, he may have seized forward and kissed Spock right then and there. For a moment he thought he may do just that, but he quickly realized his duties as captain must come first. Overwhelmed by the realization that even if Spock truly did share his feelings, this responsibility would place yet another obstacle between them, Jim returned to his violent strikes to release his frustrations. He managed only to slap Spock once before the larger Vulcan shoved him backward, sending him flying across the room.

“We’ve got to risk implosion! It’s our only chance!” Jim said as he hurried to his feet.

“It’s never been done.”

“Don’t tell me that again, science officer! It’s a theory! It’s possible! We may go up into the biggest ball of fire since the last sun in these parts exploded, but we’ve got to take that one in ten thousand chance!” As that sentence rambled on Jim began to question whether he were still talking about engineering. His thoughts were interrupted as Uhura’s voice came over the com.

“Bridge to Captain. Engineer asked, did you find—”

“Yes, I found Mr. Spock!” He grumbled. “I’m talking to Mr. Spock, do you understand?!”

“Yes, sir. Three and a half minutes left, Captain.”

Time was running out quickly, and yet Jim could feel his control slipping away, his focus waning. He looked helplessly at Spock as he realized what was happening.

“I’ve got it, the disease…” As the effects of the alien virus took over, he cast aside all concern for the safety of his ship and crew and succumbed to the grip of emotion. Jim was struggling to direct his mind back to his duties, and having very little success. The only real effect of his effort was for his weak to mind seize upon fear of the obstacle his captaincy posed to any relationship he may desire. “Love… You’re better off without it and I’m better off without mine. This vessel, I give, she takes. She won’t permit me my life, I’ve got to live hers.”

"Jim—” Spock whispered.

"I have a beautiful Yeoman. Have you noticed her Mr. Spock?” Spock raised an eyebrow, and Jim wondered if he realized that the yeoman was last thing on his mind right now. Yet in his state Jim could not bring himself to speak directly. “ _You’re_ allowed to notice her. The captain’s not permitted—”

“Jim, there is an intermix formula,” Spock said, recovering some sense of clarity as Jim continued to lose his.

"Now I know why it’s called she…” Jim murmured.

“It’s never been tested,” Spock explained. “It’s a theoretical relationship between matter and antimatter.”

“A flesh woman to touch, to hold.” There he went again, dancing around the details of his desire for fear of what may happen should he articulate them. “A beach to walk on. A few days, no braid on my shoulder.”

Scotty’s entry into the briefing room brought him back to reality, if only because he was far too embarrassed to carry on as he had been in the presence of others. Other than Spock, that is. Spock was different.

“Scotty, help,” he said, nearly falling to his knees in pure desperation.

“Stand by to intermix,” Spock said, taking control of the situation. “I’ll call the formula from the bridge.”

"Entering upper stratosphere, Captain,” came Uhura’s voice over the com. “Skin temperature now 2170 degrees.”

Jim took a long breath, then, garnering what little strength he had left in him, delivered instructions to his crew. “I’ve got to hang on,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Tell them, clear the corridors, the turbo lift. Hurry.”

 

* * *

 

The next several hours were a blur of activity, and when he settled down to rest that night, Jim could remember very little of it. Yet, he could remember with absolute clarity how Spock had made straight for him once he returned to the bridge.

“Are you alright, Jim?” he had asked.

“Are you?”

Spock nodded faintly.

And the exchange had gone no further. Still, Jim could not keep from pondering those few brief words as he lay awake in bed.

_Are you alright, Jim?_

He thought of that moment in the conference room when Spock had taken his hand, of the emotions he had shared through that brief touch. Had it been intentional? Was it a foolish mistake made under the influence of the disease? And that one feeling, that blissful love Jim had felt, was that meant for him? Or had he simply experienced something meant for someone else?

The buzz of someone at his door pulled Jim out of his thoughts. It was late. Much too late, indeed, for someone to be calling on him, especially given the trying day he’d had. But, he was still awake and in need of something to take his mind off this Spock situation, so he rose from bed and went to the door.

Hope for a distraction from Spock was quickly quashed when Jim opened the door to find the Vulcan himself outside his quarters.

“Captain,” Spock said, clearing his throat.

“Mr. Spock. Is there something I can do for you?”

"I have just received word from Dr. McCoy that his team has completed treating the infected individuals and scanning the ship for any remaining trace of the disease from Beta 2. The virus has been completely eradicated.”

"Very good, Mr. Spock,” Jim said, stifling a yawn. “Though I’m not sure I understand why the message had to be delivered in person.”

Spock shifted his weight nervously. “Well, sir. I thought it would be important that we discuss the day’s events—”

“I’ve already organized a briefing for tomorrow morning—”

“Specifically, the events which transpired in the briefing room, Captain.”

A stiff silence passed between them, but eventually, Jim nodded.

“Of course, if this time is inconvenient—” Spock offered.

“No, no, it’s fine Spock,” Jim said nervously. “Better we talk about it now, I guess. Er… why don’t you come in?”

As Spock came in and settled himself in a chair, Jim wandered over to the shelf where he stored a bottle of brandy for emergencies. This, he decided, constituted an emergency.

“You want a drink?” he asked as he poured himself a glass.

“No, thank you—Jim,” Spock said. Spock used his first name tentatively, Jim noticed, and earlier in their conversation he had seemed almost to be compensating for something with his excessive use of “captain” and “sir”.

"Suit yourself,” Jim said. He took a heavy gulp of his glass, then positioned himself behind the chair across from Spock. Somehow, he was too nervous to sit down. “The briefing room, then… What exactly did you want to talk about?”

“When I became infected by the virus I, like the rest of those effected, was significantly limited in my self-control. For me, this appears to have manifested in an emotional outburst.”

“Well I’d prefer that to you hijacking the com system and serenading the entire ship with Irish folk songs,” Jim teased, trying to brush him aside with humor.

Unsurprisingly, Spock did not acknowledge the joke. “In my outburst I believe I did some things you may not have understood, and I wanted to clarify any misunderstanding.”

“Oh,” Jim said. This was exactly what he feared, the reason he’d wanted to postpone this conversation. Whatever it was he had felt in that moment in the briefing room was not genuine. Perhaps it was some sort of manifestation of his own feelings—or of what he so hoped Spock felt for him. Perhaps it was a feeling for someone else entirely. Regaining his composure, Jim said matter-of-factly, “Yes, of course. Go ahead then, Mr. Spock and um… clarify.”

To Jim’s surprise, Spock rose from his seat. Then, stopping a couple feet away, he reached across the space between them and took Jim’s hand, holding it in just the way he had earlier that day.

“Do you know the significance of this gesture in Vulcan culture?” he said, looking him in the eyes with an unreadable expression.

“I… don’t…” Jim said, unable to hide how Spock’s touch took his breath away.

“I believe on Earth, the equivalent would be what you call in English a kiss.”

Jim was speechless. Was Spock saying that earlier, when they were in the briefing room and Spock was in the middle of a disease-induced emotional outburst, he had kissed Jim? Still Spock maintained his composure, and so Jim matched his tone.

“And was this your intention?” He asked. “When you took my hand, did you intend it to be such a gesture?”

“Yes,” Spock said simply. “That was my intention, Jim.”

“Well, you were, of course, under the influence of the virus from Beta 2. I wouldn’t hold you accountable for anything you did then that you now regret.”

At this Spock let you of his hand, letting his arms fall to his side and his eyes sink to the floor. Was that disappointment on his face, Jim wondered? He could not be certain, and until he was he didn’t dare allow emotion to overtake him in the way it had earlier. Taking a page from Spock’s book, he approached the situation as logically as he could manage.

“Of course,” Spock said. “I simply felt I had a responsibility to explain to you what had occurred between us today—"

“Do you regret it?” Jim asked in a moment of courage.

“I’m sorry?”

“I told you, Mr. Spock, I would not hold you accountable for anything you did that you now regret. However, you have not said if that act, that… kiss, was one such regret.”

Spock was silent for a long time, gazing into Jim’s eyes as he fought desperately to mask the emotions raging behind his eyes.

“It was not,” he said eventually.

With that said, Jim at last cast away his inhibitions and acted on that temptation which had gnawed at him longer than he could say. In a rush of movement he grabbed Spock by the hand, and pulling him in close held it tight between their two bodies as their lips met. Spock’s mouth met him readily, lips parted, and with his free hand he pulled Jim tight against him. Jim let his hand journey up Spock’s back, over his neck, and eventually find a home in his sleek black hair. Between their racing hearts the pair of their hands remained tightly clasped, fingers shifting, lacing together as the kiss went on.

After a long while, Jim pried his lips free long enough to stare into Spock’s eyes. Remembering his words from earlier that day, he whispered a question into the small space between their mouths.

“You’re not… ashamed?”

“By Vulcan custom, I should be,” Spock answered. “But here and now, I am not.” His brow furrowed as he considered this. “I suppose,” he said eventually, “I am more human than I had previously realized.”


End file.
